The Ruthless Mind
by Sketty24
Summary: An unexpected anger is burning up inside her. She's feeling things she shouldn't, doing things she shouldn't. And why do the familiar cries for help and stench of blood hauntingly linger? Since Jean died, nothing has been the same for Storm. PAUSED
1. Always Soar On

Disclaimer: We own none of the X-Men characters! The only thing we own here is the plot.  
  
Authors: Sketty24 and Sych77. Both part of the creation of the plot and the chapters.  
  
*Sketty24*  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Grief and sadness floated around the mansion. Mutants were exceptionally quiet and any conversation soon died away. One of their team members, a fellow teacher had died a few weeks back. It had had a shattering impact on the school, but Jean's death hit nobody worse that it did Scott and Logan.  
  
The outside of the mansion was flourishing with warm shades, ruby reds, beautiful browns, and grand golds. Autumn had arrived in a brisk fashion, bringing with it the wonderful textures and shades of the season. The school's grounds had been shrouded by a thick carpet of curled leaves that had fell away from the large trees that lined the beautiful lawns. If only the warm and inviting presence had effects inside, where the sorrow remained.  
  
The school was currently quiet, it was lesson time and students were tucked away into classrooms. Logan and Storm had met during a random walk through the silence corridors and travelled together to the memorial that had been placed in the main entrance. It was a beautiful wooden sculpture of a large eagle that was just readying for flight from a rocky perch. A gold plaque sat beneath this incredible figurine stating, 'Though you may be gone, you shall always soar on.'  
  
"Is it right? Having this thing?" Muttered Logan softly as the pair stopped, watching it gently.  
  
Storm looked to him, a frown, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well.. every time we walk down here.. we'll see it and it'll bring back memories. It'll stop us moving on."  
  
"No.. it's here to remind us of her good times and to help us move on. We don't want to erase her completely, and we can't do that. This here is a beautiful way for her to be remembered." Said Storm softly, eyes upon Logan.  
  
Logan shrugged his shoulders gently, his hands falling into his jean pockets as he stood there, watching the statue, "You're probably right." He mumbled under his breath, focusing his attention on the eagle.  
  
Storm nodded, "Scott wanted this.. he knows Jean would like it."  
  
"Yeah.." Said Logan softly with a gentle nod.  
  
Storm looked back upon the sculpture, "It really is a wonderful piece of work." She commented softly.  
  
Logan just nodded in silence.  
  
Storm watched him gently a moment, "Are you alright?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Huh? Yeah.. I'm fine. Nothing's wrong." He said, waving his hands briefly to her. He was uttering a straightforward lie. Of course something was wrong. Every time he set eyes up on that statue he could feel memories spurring before they were being played inside his mind.. They'd never leave him. Each time he experienced the remembrances he wished with all his heart that this was a dream, a nightmare.  
  
In the distance he heard bell ring and he snapped out of his thoughts to look towards Storm who still had her eyes upon the statue.  
  
"I better go to my next lesson now.." She said quietly, smiling gently to him before she turned and hurried on down the corridor. Boots signalling her departure loudly, the sound echoing round the wooden hallways.  
  
Logan nodded and muttered his farewell before he turned back to the large statue. After Storm left, he leant forward and placed his left palm upon the head of the eagle, his digit lightly touching the carving, "I.."  
  
His eyes closed, fighting the temptation to hurry away before he completed his sentence, "I love you.."  
  
As he turned and hastily left down the North corridor to avoid the oncoming bustle of students, his mind wished heartedly that her death wasn't true.. He wanted her back. Now.  
  
If only he had determined how.. 


	2. It Begins

Good day to everyone out there. This is chapter 2 of 'the Ruthless Mind' as written by Sketty 24 and Sych77 and now it is my, Sych's, chance to shine. Sorry about the delay but I have been trying to sort through the multitude of emails I have received from FF.net and, well, here I am finally! Yay for me!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"Sych"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Storm meandered to her class, contemplating skiving off as some of her less responsible students would do. She paused with a hand on the doorknob, listening to the bustle of voices within. They chattered merrily, delighted by the promises of autumn, while she struggled to maintain some control.  
She had known Jean well, had been close to her for many years. Scott and Logan may have loved her as a Prince Charming loves his princess, or even as a man loves a siren, but she would always love Jean as a sister. The bubbly smile, the warming laugh and her untarnished cheer that made Jean Jean should never be forgotten.  
And every time that Storm walked down past that memorial she remembered Jean's bubbly smile, her warming laugh and her untarnished cheer. Something's would never be forgotten.  
She took a deep breath and turned the door knob. It swung open to reveal the talkative bunch that she was to educate for the next hour. They looked at her guiltily, caught in the act of gossiping. Storm smiled softly at their expressions and closed the door gently behind her.  
"Now, I think a lesson is in order," she said, making her way up to the front of the class. She pulled out a hefty volume and let it fall to the desk with a satisfying 'bam'. "Please open your books; today you will not only learn about biology but also get some dictation practise."  
The class groaned audibly. Storm grinned at their reluctance. The lesson wore on as is the case for most lessons; some students managing to fall into a stupor, some wildly excited about the topic and others mildly interested but prone to day-dreaming.  
She stood to draw a diagram on the board as a demonstration when the board seemed to swim away from her fingers. She frowned at it, confused, and swiped at it again. Her fingers came into contact with the smooth surface.  
"Uh, okay," she muttered. "That was unusual."  
Storm had almost finished the drawing when dark clouds encroached on her vision. Before her eyes objects seemed to melt into the shadows. Her head felt incredibly heavy and it was all she could do to stop it from lolling on her neck. Worried, she turned to face the students. Her movements seemed slow, incredibly slow.  
They stared back at her with eager, uncomprehending faces. The anticipating grins of some faltered as her legs gave way and she felt herself begin to fall. She didn't notice anything except for the sound in her ears, the curious rustling of feathers.  
When her head should've hit the concrete she was somewhere else. She couldn't see properly for a golden light was in her eyes. Thousands of white, red and gold feathers fell from unfathomable heights to become pile on the floor. They brushed her legs, her arms and enticed her to lie down and sleep.  
But Storm had no desire for sleep. She could sense someone there; someone watching her. She trailed the golden light to its source, finding there someone who radiated dazzling light. The figure was obscured by the light and al she caught were glimpses of a benevolent smile, a dainty hand and a delicate leg.  
"Who are you?" she asked in awe.  
The creature merely glittered and dazzled for a few seconds before the image rippled into nothingness. Storm found herself staring into the concerned face of Scott.  
"Are you aright?"  
"Uh," Storm allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, "Yeah, I think I'm okay. I'll just take the rest of this lesson off though and...'  
"Will you be okay to teach for the rest of the day? Because I can cover your classes, if you want."  
"Oh, that's sweet but I'm fine Scott, really." She smiled sweetly at him. "Just can't be eating and drinking enough."  
He nodded hesitantly, watching her through those inscrutable tinted glasses. Storm backed away from him, her voice a hive of activity. She ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. The deep blue of her bedspread beckoned for her to lie on it. So she did.  
And she tried to settle her thoughts. Honestly, she was thinking enough for two people here! No wonder she fainted!  
  
~~*~~~  
  
Fine au chapter PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!! 


	3. Something Inside

Sketty's back! Here we are for Chapter 3!

How you're liking this folks! Yikes, sorry it's been taking so long to do Chapter 3.. I've been getting a lot done on THOH.

Here we go then.

Chapter 3 

         Involuntarily, Storm had fell into a lingering sleep upon the bed, fully clothed and uncomfortably laid. With a quiet groan she lifted her head from the bedspread, her right hand numb from where her cheek had been pressed to it for the last number of hours.

She pushed herself up slowly with a groan. Her healthy hand lifted and gently pushed away the stunning white locks from her face, allowing her warm eyes to stare around her now darkened room. 

_Wow.._

The sun was lowering from it's position in the sky.. falling slowly in a lazy evening. Storm scrambled off the bed in a very uncoordinated fashion; she was still in a sleepy state and so stumbled into the chest of drawers and stubbed her toe violently on the leg of the wardrobe.

With a sleep yelp she staggered to the window and threw open the wooden frame glass. A hefty waft of the evening breeze collided with her nostrils, uplifting her inner and so swiftly awakening her.

She suddenly had a burning desire to find someone.. she wanted to talk to someone. What had happened to her earlier.. should she hide it away? Or express her fears.. her wonders.. her awe..

She turned from the window sharply, bursting through her bedroom door. Her feet were currently bare.. But she ran, her long skirt billowing majestically as she speeded on down a magnificent staircase. Her feet daintily skipped on the carpeted stairs in silence, a slim dark skinned hand running down the smooth staircase rail. 

She hurtled her body gracefully round the bottom of the railing, leaping lightly off the final step and straight into something solid.

_Ow.._

She heard a soft grunt as she hit the solid object. Her head lifted slowly and she stared sheepishly at the face of Logan, "Uh.."

Logan smirked, stepping away to give her space, "You're in a hurry?"

Storm smiles a little, "Well.. I uh.. I was."

Logan nodded slowly, motioning to step out of her way, "Alright.."

Storm scratched at her neck slowly, "Well.. I'm not in a hurry anymore."

Logan's head canted, joints cracking, "Oh.. alright."

Storm breathed out slowly.. Why was she being so nervous and edgy? It was just Logan.. Why did she have a new surge inside her? This was so alien..

"Are you alright now Storm? I heard about your fainting spell in your lesson." Said Logan with a grunt of words. His hazel eyes beat down upon her with a concerned glimmer within them.

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she hurriedly blinked up to him, "Oh.. Yes.. I'm fine now.. Probably over working or something." She shrugged gently.. Why was she lying? Why? It's only Logan..

_Just Logan.._

Logan watched her still, his height considerably taller.. but it caused his stance to look comforting as he looked down upon her with an almost protective posture, "Oh.. well, you'll be more careful, yeah?" He murmured softly.

_Why is his voice so soothing? I don't t feel like this.. This isn't me._

_It's not me!_

Storm now nodded hurriedly and barged past Logan, now staggering softly. She was bewildered by her thoughts.. this alien emotion. It was a personality transplant.. some had effected her.. something was inside.

"Where're you goin'?" Called Logan as Storm now broke into a high speeded run down the corridor.

"I need to see Charles!" She cried, throwing her body forward. She needed to see him.. question this.. But she could never tell him about her experience when she fainted.. no one could know. Something inside told her this.. No.. not something.. someone…

***

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	4. Help For Nothing

Thank you to all for your reviews! We hope to see you return as we post more and more chapters! And bluemist, yes, it will go slightly RoLo, but no more hints other than that!

Chapter 4 

            The oak in Charles' office gleamed with the satisfied air of the well-polished. A spicy scent radiated pleasantly from the leather chairs and the soft light played into his eyes. He blinked. Then his eyes began to water in the intensity of the afternoon light. He contemplated closing the blind but decided instead to put all; his focus on the young woman in front of him.

            Storm had her head bowed and gazed absently at her hands like a child expecting a detention and lecture. For a second she glanced into his own calm stare but then dropped her eyes to inspect her fingernails. Charles watched her with a hint of bemusement.

"What's been troubling you Storm? I heard you had a fainting-spell in class this afternoon. I trust you are feeling better..?"

She jerked her head noncommittally. Charles sighed. He could almost hear her thinking "Well, of course you'd know". He decided to change his tact.

"_Tell _me what's troubling you Storm. This is indeed a hard time for the entire school and also mutant population with Jean dead and the humans lobbying for the mutant registration act to be passed. I need my staff to be alert and cheery, to prevent the students from becoming sober and unhopeful."

Storm sighed under his scrutiny, and shrugged uncomfortably. "Just stress I guess..."

Charles allowed himself a dry chuckle. "M'dear, I don't believe for one minute that you arrange a meeting with me simply because of stress. You know that you can change things on your own without me glaring over your shoulder and you know how to take care of yourself. No, I think you called this interview to tell me something but now don't know how to."

Storm shrugged again. She was getting good at it.

Something in her eyes told Charles he'd hit the nail bang on. She scratched at her neck idly but stared at him with his eyes wide, as if trying to give him a hint. Charles was tempted to dip into her mind and find the source of her troubles but only entertained this idea only for a second. Minds were not for tampering with. He strongly believed that if Storm wanted to tell him she'd do so when she was ready... minds were incredibly good at revealing their secrets at the right time.

With nothing else to do, he dismissed her. He stayed looking where she had sat for a long time after she'd left, seemingly not seeing anything. Storm was strong. She had a strong will, a strong character and a strong sense of moral rightness. Whatever she was facing could not break her.

There was a knock at the door. Somehow this knock sounded gruff, like the knocker would not take _'__sorry, busy__'_or _'__sorry, out__'_for an answer.

"Come in, Logan" Charles said tiredly, rubbing his brow.

Logan sidled in and took Storm's vacated chair. Charles could tell by the way his fingers itched that he longed for a smoke. Logan had, at the request of many in the mansion, given up smoking. If grudgingly and perhaps with a bit of cheating and lying on the side. But at least he wasn't smoking as much as obviously now.

"Doc, I think something's troubling Storm."

Charles raised his eyebrows and gestured Logan to continue.

"She's been acting weird lately. Not herself at all. And there's something in her expressions that's not.. not very Storm-ish."

Charles nodded encouragingly. Logan squirmed. 

"Well," Charles said. "She has just come to see me and has told me that she is feeling stressed. We should behave with consideration towards her.'

Logan gave him a sidelong look. It had a lot of cunning in it, that look, like that of a crafty fox deciding how to eat a plucky pheasant. Charles hoped he wasn't the pheasant and matched the look with a poker-face glance of his own.

"You don't believe that do ya Charles?"

Charles maintained his poker-face with ease. "Storm has expressed a desire to solve things on her own. With consideration.."

"From others she will heal herself, yeah, I know. You've told me that a great many times. But really?"

Charles looked at him blankly, and Logan chose this moment to excuse himself. After he had been gone for almost ten minutes Charles allowed himself a brief smile of exasperation. For appearing to have the tact of a tiger in an empty birdhouse, Logan could analyse people surprisingly well when he wanted to.

Well, at least there were two people looking out for Storm now. That was encouraging.

Xavier wondered what was wrong with Storm. He felt there was something playing on his mind but couldn't figure out what. Why. Anyway, would Storm, so official in her behaviour, ask for help but then ask for nothing? Another mystery of the world.

He began marking some physics papers distractedly, "I hope things work out for her" He mused to himself.


	5. Unfamilar Emotions

_Sketty's back! Here we are with chapter 5. Thanks for the reviews everyone!_

Chapter 5 

            Charles gave a pleasant smile to himself as he finished the last physic paper. He lowered his fountain pen to the gleaming wooden surface of the desk and leant back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. His marking may be done, but throughout the work he had just done he couldn't take his mind of Storm's difficulties. Logan had summed it up perfectly, 'Not Storm-ish.' It certainly wasn't.

Charles looked up gently from his desk when he heard the great doors to his office lightly shut behind a smartly dressed man. Scott.

"Good evening, Scott." Said the Professor with the best smile he could force.

Scott gave a straightforward nod, "Professor." A mild pause before Scott took a seat beside Charles's desk, "Did Storm come in here earlier?"

Charles gave a single nod at this.

Scott looked out of the window gently before he continued, "I thought so.. Is everything all right? I saw her running away from your office in a bad state. She's extremely upset about something,"

Charles suddenly straightened in his chair, face stern and eyes fixed upon Scott, "She was crying?" He asked concernedly.

Scott gave a gentle nod, "Yeah.."

A frown creased over Charles's brow, "This is effecting her worse than I thought."

"And then Logan goes up and starts comforting her." Scott muttered under his breath, talking mainly to himself, "Then she starts crying harder..  He's such an idiot." He had begun picking at the chair of his seat when he went into an angry mode. He glared absently at the wall and dug his fingernails into the arm roughly.

Charles raised his brow gently before shaking his head determinedly, "Don't object to Logan. He knows more than I do about Storm at the moment."

Scott almost fell off his chair, "You _what?!_ But Professor! Logan's an insensitive – " He instantly closed his mouth, refraining from swearing in front of the wise man he respected.

Charles held his eyes sternly upon his team leader; "Logan has more knowledge about this than all of us. Let him comfort her and be with her. It's the best thing for Ororo."

Scott huffed, "I wouldn't be so sure about that. His attitude is rubbing off on her?"

"Oh?" Charles replied with an amused expression. That was unlikely; Storm was a polite and motherly person.

A defensive nod was sent at Charles, "Yes! She walked right into me in the corridor a few minutes ago and just growled at me!"

Charles raised a brow.

_"Growled!"_ Repeated Scott, trying to hint the characteristics of Logan.

"Scott, she is going through a difficult time."

"But Charles, Storm doesn't growl! That's not Storm!"

Charles fell silent, watching Scott with an alarmed expression. That was the third time someone had decided she was not acting like she should. Himself.. Logan.. and now Scott. At least it was one thing they agreed on.

There was a quiet few minutes until there was an angry yell from the upper floor and a single smash that rocketed through the pleasant silence. Scott and Charles exchanged one glance before Scott scrambled out of his seat and ran sharply up the staircase.

            Storm gasped softly, staring down at the tiled floor of the kitchen where the remains of a white china plate now lay in pieces. Her hands shook lightly as her hands went to her cheeks that were lightly flushed. She glared down at the broken pieces, awed and astonished by an unfamiliar anger inside her.

Scott ran to the door of the kitchen, he stared in, panting softly from his run, "Storm?" He said softly, looking over to the platinum hair woman.

Storm raised her head gently, she blinked slowly.. seeing Scott in a whole new light. Like she knew him.. much more deeply. As if.. she had had a relationship with him once..

"Scott?" Said Storm breathlessly, her breathing jagged as she watched Scott with a perplexed stare. She then blinked a few times, glancing down to the plate, which she had thrown. She lowered towards it and began scooping up the pieces in her trembling hands.

"What were you doing?" Asked Scott quietly. Storm was such a gentle woman, and certainly not clumsy.

Storm just shook her head as she dropped the broken pieces in the bin, "My hands were wet.. it slipped out of my fingers when I turned." Her voice mildly shook; she closed her eyes gently over the burning tears she could feel.

Scott watched her curiously for a moment before he spoke up softly, "Are you all right, Ororo?"

Storm glanced his way, straightening from the now tidy floor. She smiled half-heartedly at Scott, he only called her Ororo when she was upset, he used it as a tool to calm her down. He was a brother to her.. and this deeply held lust that had burned from the past was completely unexplainable. Her eyelids fluttered softly as she gave him a gentle nod, "I'm fine, Scott."

"Get yourself to sleep.. just let your body rest." Advised Scott knowledgably, pausing to give her a warm smile of reassurance before he turned from the doorway to return downstairs.

Storm sighed softly, leaning against the worktop with her head hung in shame. Her fingers clasped over her head and she exhaled a drawn-out sigh whilst fingernails massaged her smooth forehead. Avoiding the idea of supper she turned from the worktop and exited the kitchen. She let out sharp and long breaths as she walked, trying to free out the unfamiliar bursts of anger that were bubbling away inside.

She looked up slowly as she turned the corner to see Logan knocking on her bedroom door gently.

"Storm?" She heard him mutter to the woodwork.

Storm smiled gently, remaining at the end of the corridor; "Looking for me?" She asked quietly, arms lightly folded over her black shirt.

Logan's head whipped up to scrutinize at Storm before his features relaxed and he nodded, "Yeah.."

"What's wrong?" Storm asked, now walking over to him.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Replied Logan with a knowing sparkle in his warm hazel eyes.

***

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	6. The Beginning of the Blood

Sych here! Sorry about this... Sketty actually gets you the next chapter so damn fast that I have to make up for her speed by being really slow! Nah, I'm just trying to excuse my knack for procrastination. I hope you like the way this is going! Drop me a line, whine, complain or pick holes in my writing : grooveyflower88hotmail.com 

Feedback is fun. Just please don't spam my email account with hideous flames because they will, believe me, be deleted instantly.

My thanks to bluemist418, ironic-humour. Sorry for the loooong wait!

Anyways, on with the story:

Chapter 6

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

She looked at him in mild. "I'm fine," she stressed, "Just a little tired.' 

Logan snorted disbelievingly. "Something's wrong, I can tell. Now I don't.." He continued, holding his hand up to stop her flow of protests, ".. I don't insist that you tell me what's happening. But just... tell me if there's something I can do, o.k?"

Storm looked at him for a long time, losing herself in his deep eyes. She glanced away only when he shifted in discomfort. "I'm fine," She repeated quietly, pulling at the waist of her black shirt.

He gazed at her in concern, and she was very aware of his eyes on her. He rolled his shoulders as a sign of confusion and defeat, and then bid her goodnight, walking away with an expression of bewilderment.

Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him go, drinking in every movement he made till he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Then she was faced with confusion of her own. Scott, now Logan? She had thought they were nice enough guys before, but what was with the sudden craving?

She remembered a phrase she'd seen in a movie once, years ago, "As skittish as a mare on heat." Well, it could explain everything, but she strongly resented describing herself so.

"I think I'm going to take a long, long shower," She muttered. She opened the door with her back still facing it, and turned inwards as it did, leaning on the oak as if about to collapse again.

She grabbed a towel from where it was, folded on a shelf in her wardrobe, and stepped out of her clothes into a silky sky-blue dressing gown. One of the perks of being a teacher at Xavier's School for the Gifted was having a en-suite to yourself. Storm's en-suite was ordered exactly how she liked it, with periwinkle blue candles lining the bath.

The shower was brilliant. The warm water steadily melted away tension in her muscles and for the first time all day, she felt at ease. She stayed in the shower for a long time, savouring the heat and sensation. When she did get out, she wrapped the towel around her lithe body and frowned in mild frustration; she'd forgotten to put the fan on.

She stood in front of the foggy mirror. A distorted and generalised image gazed back at her. It was uncanny how little her reflection looked like her when it was like this. The features were marred, even the colours weren't right. If you turned your head to the left, her hair looked reddish.

She shrugged, and moved as if to wipe the mist away. Her hand touched the reflective glass. It was warmer than she had expected it to be.. as warm as her blood. She began to draw her hand away in shock, her fingers leaving a trail of clear mirror on the frosted surface.

She looked at her hand. Rivulets of blood trickled down her fingers and pooled in her palm. After gazing at it in puzzlement, she glanced back at the mirror, expecting to see a crack or blood trail. She saw her face reflected in the clear part of the mirror.

It seemed to wink sardonically at her, and then things began to get odd. The world darkened, except for the slightly hand-shaped space through which she could see her reflection. The colours whirled through it, changing through fire and ice and molten metal. She thought she saw clouds dashing across, lit bright crimson as a raging fire followed them. Then, as two silhouettes against the furious background, she saw two people standing beside each other; one tall and menacing, the other short, standing bewilderedly to one side.

Her knees contacted the cold lino of the bathroom, and the sensation of coldness ran up through her blood. Gasping for air, she felt the vision leave her, and she found herself clutching to the vanity cupboard for support, her legs seemingly useless. Storm stood, and looked at the mirror. There was no mist.

The warmth of the air indicated that the shower had only just been turned off. A faint 'plink' could be heard as a last drop of water fell from the showerhead. Overhead, a fan whirred contentedly.

She glanced at her hand, and was confused to see it perfectly clear of any blood or scratch. For a long time she stood there, listening to the fan and watching her hand. Then she got dressed as quickly as she could.

She dashed out of her quarters and slid down the banisters. She should have really given herself a detention for this, it was against school policy and obviously dangerous. Nevertheless, she made her way with full speed to Professor Xavier's office.

It was empty.

Storm gave a small scream of irritation. The room glared back at her, obviously unhappy that she would breach their silence. She folded up into a leather chair in front of the familiar wooden desk and prepared to wait.

_Bingely-bingely-bleep._

The ring of the pager seemed unnaturally loud, and Storm started at the sound of it. She checked it slowly. It had always been clipped to the inside of her shoe. She figured that she'd take her shoes everywhere. As it was Autumn, she didn't have to worry about what would happen if she wore sandals. Her fingers brushed her thin socks and she imagined them dripping with blood. She pushed the image aside and grabbed her pager. In her mind, blood cascaded into her boots.

The black rectangle was slightly heavier than it should have been, if appearances were any judge. Xavier insisted that all the teachers had one, for how else was anything going to get done, if he was the only one who could guarantee everyone got the message? She checked it, and was unsurprised to see Scott was trying to contact her.

She uncurled from the seat and made her way to the lower levels. The whiteness of the walls sought to sooth her, and the familiarity of the corridors urged her to relax but Storm found she could not be comforted. Anxiety bubbled. A meeting had been called.

The X-Men were sitting in the "Disembarkment Room". She wasn't sure how it had gotten this room; by rights it should have been the 'Briefing Room' or something similar. However, the name had stuck. What the 'Disembarkment Room' described was a small circular room with a table and chairs. The table had many uses; presently it was being used for none.

Scott and Xavier were deep in conversation. Logan sat to one side, clearly eavesdropping. The expression on his face suggested that he didn't like what he was hearing. Kurt sat quietly by himself; with such a look of happy devoutness that Storm was loathe to interrupt him.

She stood in the corner, watching the tense faces. Now would probably not be a good time to bring up her strange sickness. It would only worry and distract them, and they didn't need that if they were about to go off on a mission.

The first mission since Jea-... the first mission since Alkali Lake.

She caught Logan watching her as he listened intently and dropped her own gaze, doing an in-depth study of the back of her hand. Feigning nonchalance she began to inspect her nails.

Her jaw dropped.

They were coated with a wet, crimson liquid. She owned no such nail polish. Storm lifted a fingernail and put it to her tongue. As she had suspected it might, it tasted metallic. Which raised another question; why were her fingernails painted with blood?

xXxXxXx

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	7. The Vision

Sketty is back, boop-boop!  
  
**Chapter 7**  
  
Storm felt a horrible sensation of sickness in her gut at the vile taste of the blood. With a wave of panic she quickly sent her gaze around the room. Did anyone notice? Would they question her? She saw that Charles and Scott were still in conversation, and Logan had turned back to eyeing them suspiciously. She hurriedly turned, grabbing a towel from one of the open cupboards in the silver panelled wall. With a cautious glance over the open door she began to viciously scrub her nails on one of the fluffy white towels within. All of a sudden, she paused from her actions and stared. The towel,, was purely white. Not a mark. She looked back to her nails. The blood had gone. Back to their usual natural colour. Bewildered and alarmed she shoved the towel in and threw shut the door with a gasp.  
  
The noise had alerted Charles and Scott of her presence. Both of them instantly looked her way.  
  
"Are you alright Storm?" Asked Scott quietly, somewhat hesitantly as if he feared a troubled answer.  
  
"Yeah.." She muttered in return, tugging a clump of white behind an ear, "I'm fine, yeah.. so.. what's the meeting for?"  
  
Charles studied her a moment before he turned his chair to face the whole group, "It's Pyro."  
  
Attention instantly locked on Charles, and Storm decided to push the chilling happenings into the back of her mind.. for now.  
  
"We don't know how he is, how he was taken, and we don't know if he wants to come back to the mansion. It could have been a kidnap, or he could have gone of his own accord. But I don't know.."  
  
"Use Cerebro?" Asked Logan, his booted feet casually propped on the lengthy table of the room. Scott flashed him a disapproving look.  
  
"I have already tried, Logan. It's not picking up Pyro's movements."  
  
"So do you think Magneto has found a way for Cerebro is be blocked off from his residence all together?" Storm offered quietly, now taking a seat.  
  
"It seems that way.."  
  
"What do you think we should do Professor?" Asked Scott watching Charles intently.  
  
"We need to find him.. somehow.. Take the Blackbird out tomorrow morning.. it is too late now. It is nearing midnight. I shall cancel lessons tomorrow morning for you all.."  
  
Nods were passed in exchange before the X-Men stood to take their leave. Farewells were then spoken and exits permitted. Storm was the first out, completely ignoring her first wishes to talk to Charles. He had too much on his mind now. Bothering him with some apparitions would be irrational. And so, she speedily went ahead, hurrying through the dark cold corridors, up the plush carpeted stairs and to the safety of her room.  
  
All of a sudden, once reaching a faintly lit corridor in the North block, she froze and stared at her surroundings. She was heading to her room, why was she in here? This wasn't the corridor to her room, hers was a floor below and in the West block. She turned to stare at the door she had stopped outside. She felt her insides sudden run cold with a panic. Then a voice spoke up behind her.  
  
"Storm?"  
  
She was startled, before she hurriedly turned to see Scott watching her curiously, "Why are you up here? Were you looking for me?"  
  
She glanced back to the door.. it was Scott.. _and Jean's_ room..  
  
"No.." She replied quietly, "I just.. I was taking a walk before I go to sleep, that's all." She made a mild shrug whilst she mentally cursed herself for the petty explanation.  
  
"Oh." Replied Scott, now walking round her to enter his room, he appeared relieved, "I thought something was wrong."  
  
"No.. nothing."  
  
"All right then. Good. I'll see you in the morning Ororo." He softly said, now stood in his doorway with the door held open by a hand.  
  
A sudden urge impelled her to enter. She forced herself to freeze to the spot. A rather rigid nod of her head then given, "Good night.." Again! She found that her mind was not only just telling her to enter, but to kiss him goodnight. She was mentally appalled at the idea. Kiss _Scott_? Since when did she have passionate affections for Scott? Since Jean died.. that's when.  
  
"Storm?" Scott muttered. He wasn't at all keen on the misty look she was giving him, "Storm?"  
  
"I have to go! Goodnight!" She hurriedly whispered before she turned to run from him, leaving a confused and sceptical Scott standing at his door.  
  
She desperately ran through the corridor, cursing and hating herself for the crazy happenings. What was she doing to herself? Why was it happening? She turned to descend the stairs to her correct floor, but as she walked by the banister at the drop of the walkway, she halted. She took a breath. But even that was hard. She tried to blink and clear the currently foggy vision. That was harder. Her legs suddenly gave way and with a muted gasp she fell to her knees on the plush royal blue carpet of the upper floor. Slim hands clasped shakily at the wooden spindles, trying to stop herself from swaying, but physically she remained stiffened. Then, all of a sudden, a searing twinge shot across her forehead, causing her wince and recoil in shock and pain. Her vision blackened suddenly, before everything lightened spectacularly, and the objects of the walkway, the banister, the vases, everything, just became devoured into the cloud of white that polluted her gaze so. A hand madly tried to push away the sight, but in truth no such cloud infected the corridor. A foggy figure appeared in her line of sight, and even more pain agonized her head. Throbbing and burning. Then, the blurred figure spoke; causing such a pain she though some blade had been drove through her forehead.  
  
But.. to say it spoke, the whitened lips never moved. The voice was a low tone, male, but young. It felt distant..  
  
_..This is just wrong.. Why am I here..? God.. Somebody's gotta help me Help me!.._  
  
Storm cried out, hands grabbing her head as she felt a rush of heat stab into her mind and drive her to the murky state of unconsciousness. She felt her body falling, she distantly felt her back hit the floor.. in some sort of foul smelling warm liquid. The blood was back..  
  
The figure turned, appearing to be looking around.  
  
_..Please.. I can't stay here.. Somebody..  
_  
Fire began to swirl across her vision, burning in the eyes of the murky form..  
  
_..No..  
_  
Just then, over the hills of Westchester, over the traffic of New York, right to a distant and lonely building hidden from the eyes of the world.. the face of a boy stared round a corner into a dark room where the Brotherhood stood.. plotting..

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Review people! I hoped you liked it! Next up, Sych with Chap 8! 


	8. Power and Fear is One

Sych here! Apologies for the delay, but I have been in the midst of my midyear exams and my birthday, along with a strange illness that leaves me feeling wasted and near to fainting. But at last, here the next chapter is, so away with my petty excuses and stalling. May I present to you, appreciated readers and reviewers, Sych's next turn;  
  
**Chapter 8**  
  
Even though the air was nippy and the atmosphere gloomy, two guards stood outside the derelict warehouse. They blew on their hands as they clenched the coffee cups tightly. Wisps of steam billowed from the figures, streaming into the darkened sky.  
  
"Cor, nought like a guard shift in the dead of night, is there Shaun?" one called, rubbing his shoulder blades against the doorframe.  
  
"Nothink like it for creatink misery, that's for sure," was the feminine and articulate reply. "Magneto isn't goink to be happy zough. At least ve're out of the meetink build-up and tension."  
  
"Yeah," said the first watchman, "what happened to ol' Snake's gang, anyways?"  
  
Shaunterelle shrugged, though the movement blended into the gentle rustling of the bushes behind her. "You know Snake, Tort. Always has had too much confidence in himself. As far as I can tell, he changed the plans at the last minute wivvout consulting Magneto, and it was only the quick wit of the new boy that stopped anyone from detecting zem."  
  
"The young squire sure is plucky," Tort nodded. "I reckons Magneto will find him dead useful."  
  
"Indeed. I sink you're right," she replied, "Zough it vill probably benefit Pyro none."  
  
The conversation was cut short as a land-rover drove up. It was old and dirty, obviously uncared for. Few would believe that it housed the up-and- coming evil manipulator, Magneto. His previous capture had made him cautious and secretive. He trusted no one, except maybe Mystique and his famed enemy, Charles Xavier, (though this was a source of continual puzzlement for the other brothers). Dramatics were completely out, and secrecy was definitely in. Thus, a typical soccer-mom's land-rover was a perfect disguise.  
  
Shaunterelle and Tort gave him a sloppy military salute as he stepped out of the vehicle. He shut the door with a loud snap, and strode menacingly to the large doors of the warehouse. As he approached, the swung open, revealing the odd, reddish metallic technology that protected the proceedings from mental trespassers. He stepped through, and the watchmen followed.  
  
The warehouse looked derelict and abandoned from the outside, but on the inside it had obvious signs of living. The Brotherhood made this their headquarters because it had none of their previous flair. Some lived here, others merely came when it was necessary to pick up mission objectives. There were piles of bedding and belongings, but little real furniture. After all, in the event of a raid, when there would be little prior warning, it was desirable that the warehouse should appear to be only a warehouse.  
  
At the back of the large ground space was a cunningly hidden door. It seemed to be merely part of the wall. A keen observer may have realised the entire inside of the warehouse was a mere five feet smaller than it was on the outside, but it was highly unlikely. Magneto 'summoned' the metal door to open, and slid down through an even more discrete trapdoor.  
  
This lead to a small room, currently occupied by Snake's division of the Brotherhood. The brotherhood had grown in numbers, like its fame and respect. Mutants flocked to join it, especially as anti-mutant activists grew more violent in their protests. Snake's division had seven mutants in total, and all were nervously awaiting the arrival of their leader. Pyro could feel the worry in the air, and faint regret from the surroundings mutants. Magneto was now feared.  
  
Pyro didn't look up until he heard the trapdoor close. Then he couldn't help but glancing at his one escape route. Like everything else, it was metal. Everything down here was metal; metal chairs, even metal coffee cups. It gave Magneto complete control.  
  
The man himself walked purposefully to the head of the table with heavy, military steps. His mouth was tugged down at the corners, and frown lines showed clearly. The shapely blue form of Mystique materialised from the shadows, making Pyro start. He hadn't known she was there. She stood behind Magneto, looking smug. The two guards stood by the ladder leading to the exit.  
  
He stared at each mutant in turn, focussing at last on the one known to Pyro merely as "snake". He thought privately that this was a clichéd name, but obviously appropriate as the man had intricate tattoos of snakes over his body. As far as Pyro could tell, his particular talent was stupidity.  
  
"What happened?" Magneto demanded. "How could an information gathering mission nearly turn into mass slaughter?"  
  
Snake, the swarthy man with no apparent survival instinct, leaned back in his chair confidently. His fingers fumbled in his breast pocket for a cigarette. He lit in and took a puff. "Since the attack on the president, security has doubled. Seeking intelligence has become a waste of time. It is too risky-"  
  
"And you think we should go in, guns a-blazing, and see how long we last, is that it?"  
  
"Even with her posing as Senator Kelly we aren't learning anything new. For all we are learning, she's as talented as a codfish."  
  
Mystique smirked sardonically at Snake. He glowered at her, slowly drawing the cigarette to his lips and blowing the smoke in her direction.  
  
For a few tense seconds, Magneto was completely still. Then, with astonishing swiftness, he stood and approached the man, grabbing him by the neck.  
  
Pyro watched with a building of nausea in his stomach. He didn't like Snake, and was no stranger to violence, but it was the acute mix of pain and humiliation that made it so... wrong to him.  
  
Snake dropped the nonchalant act and began to be a repentant sinner. "Please Magneto, I've served you well so far. You're right, you're plan was best and I nearly turned gathering information into a massacre, but it all turned out alright in the end, and I promise-"His unheard entreaties were cut off as Magneto added force to his grip. Pyro glanced away, and his eyes caught Mystique's. She licked her lips at him, and he felt repulsed by her perversity.  
  
The chair Snake sat on began to buckle and fold, encasing the hapless mutant in metal. All the while, Magneto gripped his throat and stared into his eyes. Bones crunched with deafening clarity, gurgled screams erupted. Pyro shut his eyes tightly and wished himself away. His eyes felt hot and his blood pounded in his ears. He was all too aware that if things had turned out differently, it would be him enduring punishment.  
  
"I don't ask for much," Magneto commented calmly, despite the fact that Snake's eyes were beginning to bulge most unpleasantly, "But I ask that you trust my orders, don't deceive me or go behind my back, and you do not insult my 2IC."  
  
Snake whimpered, past struggling to scream. Magneto finally tired of squishing him, and walked back to the head of the table. "Take him," he said carelessly over his shoulder to the guards. They swept forward immediately, with expressions of careful neutrality, scooping him up and manhandling him up the ladder and through the trapdoor.  
  
Pyro stared at the chair he had vacated. It was twisted and stained in a manner of things unappealing, mainly bloodied. His eyes didn't seem to respond to his mind's urgent prompting to look away until Mystique grasped his shoulder. Her nails bit strongly into his flesh, and she brought her lips to his ear. "Not feeling queasy, I hope?" She whispered.  
  
He shrugged her off, and found himself the subject of Magneto's intense gaze. He cowered under his scrutiny, and tried to diminish into his chair. Technically, he had disobeyed orders too. Was anything going to happen to him? Mystique padded silently but swiftly, going to stand behind Magneto's left shoulder.  
  
"You are my Brotherhood. We have the same goals, the same desires. Banded together we will see all that we hope for become the reality. You are my Brotherhood, and we can do anything if our resolve is strong enough."  
  
Pyro watched him carefully, and was disconcerted to see both Magneto and Mystique turn their eyes to him. He felt himself pinned to his chair with apprehension under their combined gaze. Magneto summoned an aluminium alloy can to him, and as it travelled through the air to his hand it stretched and thickened into a thin, femur-length spear. He stared at it, then, coming to a decision, tapped it decisively against the tabletop.  
  
Still locking eyes with Pyro, he announced to the general assembly: "Does anyone know of global warming?"

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PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!! 


	9. Encounter in the Night

_Thank you very much for the reviews. I have finally managed to complete the next chapter. This is Sketty, please review this chapter!_

**Chapter 9**

The room was coated in darkness. No light emitted fro the outside world for thick swirling clouds that appeared to be threatening rain had covered a crescent moon. Storm lay awake in her bed.. the expectations of sleep had been given only briefly, for she had awoken in the early hours of the morning and had yet to fall back into slumber. But as her eyes stared at the milky aura of the moon behind its natural veil she felt her eyes droop shut.

Whilst her body drifted into sleep, her movements became active. She sat up off the bed, her lulling eyes now widely open. But the pupils within were large and seemingly disfigured. She stretched to a standing position out of the bed and walked slowly around the bed. She was completely unaware of her actions, for Storm was now sleepwalking.

Her movements were oddly fluid, drifting but graceful, like some spirit. She slowly pulled her door open softly passing out into the dark corridor. She looked around at the stretch of the corridor, seeing no one, she proceeded onwards down the corridor, coming upon the staircase and softly climbing up to the next floor and then walking on.

Her body stopped outside one of the doors, hand automatically lowering to grip the handle. It turned slowly, but the door did not open. Locked. But this did not deter the sleepwalker. She appeared to still have control of her powers whilst in this mental entrapment. Her arms outstretched either side of her scantily dressed form and a sudden wind beckoned from the air around her, swirling. It intensified greatly before spiralling forward to the door and noisily barging into it. The lock snapped, the door slammed open. A grunt came from within the room as the sleeping figure was mildly disturbed by the noise, but they slept on.

Storm walked slowly into the room, stepping around the furniture and other various items with ease. A mild breeze still flowed with her, making the material of her short silk nightdress flap gently against her thighs, the pale blue alluring against her dark skin. Her hair billowed grandly behind her head. A soft light filled the room, for the clouds had parted slightly to reveal the luminous blush of the moon. Long shadows stretched across the cover of the bed, glowing white light bringing a strange aura to the sleeper. Storm proceeded forward to the bed, as if her actions were entirely normal. She stopped at the foot of the bed before proceeding to climb upon it, crawling across the covers slowly on her hands and knees, slowly coming closer to where the sleeper's head lie. Her eyes stared down at it with determination, but no other hints of Ororo lie within the gaze. In fact, the stormy blue gaze of her eyes were no longer that shade.. but a dark reddish brown.

The sleeper murmured quietly in their sleep, arousing at the distant realisation that they were not alone. Their head turned gently to face the other way. It was Scott. Storm slowly stopped by his head, kneeling gently on the duvet. She studied him with the same strange eyes that stared as if looking straight through him, not studying, nor inspecting as normal eyes would. They were just deadly still, as if blind. But they were guiding her movements, she could see. Her hand moved slowly towards Scott's face, the blood had returned in her fingernails, but it was ignored, or she was unaware. She gently rested her palm on Scott's face, cupping his jaw tenderly in her hand. She then spoke, eyes closing, "I hope you are dreaming of me.." her voice came out in a whisper, "..for you cannot see me any other way." Her head lowered closer, watching the closed eyes of the sleeping Scott; luckily he wore his visor as he slept. He had decided it would be safer since he recently had reoccurring nightmares that made him jolt and awaken in the night, causing him to blast away much of his furniture in the process.

Still unaware of her actions, Storm remained sat beside him on the bed, still uncomfortably close to the man's face. Her eyes shut before opening slowly, the brown eyes watching as the blood from her fingers began to trail across the man's face, and for one strange moment she wondered why he wasn't wakening at the warm stream of the liquid. But that thought quickly disappeared as she spoke again, eyes re-closing, "For one night, I am with you again," then suddenly, her face had lowered closer to his face and softly her lips enclosed around his in a soft and delicate kiss that was only the result of years of ongoing love. Scott was rousing, his face consorting somewhat confusedly. Storm continued to kiss him, lips closing around his in continuous motions, done ever so tenderly. But then suddenly, behind the visor, Scott's eyes burst open and with a surprised shout he jerked his head backwards

At the noise Storm's closed eyes slowly lifted, the brown shade back to their normal blue. Her pupils focused upon Scott's horrified face. She was awake. She made a frightened gasp, spinning her head as she glared around the room, looking back at Scott, then down at the bed she was kneeled upon. Why was she in here? How did she get in here? She looked back to Scott, making another terrified noise as she saw her hand upon his face, the blood from her fingernails had dripped upon his face, smearing horrifying trails down his face that he seemed oblivious too. She threw her hand back, suddenly screaming in what sounded like intolerable fright. She stared at his lips, blood was glistening upon them, and she could taste blood on her own lips. The more she screamed, the foggier her surroundings were coming, the more blood appeared. Her hands were coated, staining her arms, dripping on the bed.

Scott moved closer to her, him unaware of any blood, for in reality there was none on him or her. "Storm?" he asked, leaning over her as she cowered down on the bed on her back, staring upwards with wide and frightened eyes. Storm switched her eyes upon him, grimacing and shrieking her disgust as the blood from his face dripped off his skin and splashed sickeningly on her face. She cried out horrifyingly, writhing at the foul stench that was taking over her. As her gaze blackened her into unconscious she could hear a female whisper into her ear, and nails digging into her shoulder, _"Not feeling queasy I hope?" _lips brushed her ear and she cried out as she tried to get away from them, the comforting hold trying to take her shoulders vanished as she spiralled out of reality and into a world of blackness.

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Thanks for reading, please review! Sych is up next!


	10. Let the War Commence

Yes, it's the long awaited return of... Sych! Well, maybe not 'long awaited', but allow a girl to dream! I have evidently taken over control of Magneto and his dastardly crew, and have concocted this little chapter for you.

- ( sych ) -

**Chapter 10**

"Does anyone know about global warming?"

Erik watched the reactions of those around him. He could feel the eagerness in waves – another chance to show the scum who's boss, another chance for mutant superiority to reveal itself! The how and when were irrelevant. But he could also feel the reluctance from one of his newer 'brother's.

The youth knew better than to openly show his distaste, but it was obvious he didn't have the same drive as the others did. Charles Xavier's 'teachings' had weakened him to the point that he was too high and mighty to do what was needed. Pyro talked big but did nothing. Erik saw, and he knew how to manipulate such people.

"Yah, isn't that abou' the icecaps, or summat?"

Erik smiled benevolently at yet another inarticulate brother. The uneducated were so extremely useful. Even after seeing the death of one of their mission leaders, Snake, their resolve didn't waver. "Yes, my pronunciation-redundant friend, the ice caps indeed."

He exchanged glances with Mystique. They had known each other for a very long time, to the point where there was little trust but a lot of understanding. A complex relationship to be sure, but Erik would rather fight fire than not have Mystique on his side.

She gave an almost imperceptible incline of her head to indicate now was the time to outline the plan. Not that he required her permission, per say, but sometimes you needed a woman's intuition.

"We need to melt the icecaps," he proclaimed almost happily.

One of the assembled mutants, who was brighter than most, held up a hand like he was back in primary school. "But won't that drown us all?"

A shark-like grin spread over the features of the anti-hero. He could now sense the fear in his mutant followers. They didn't like the idea of a suicide mission, yet they were happy to die in the course of a mission. Maybe Charles was onto something, with his ridiculous ideas of hope. But Erik knew them merely to be a useful manipulation tool.

"Only those of us who don't know it's going to happen." He straightened. "If the ice caps were melted, the sea level would raise a few metres. There are places around that are many metres above sea level. We will retreat to the mountains, with others of our mutant kin, and not be threatened by the sea."

"Wha' about fresh water?"

"We will of course be taking supplies with us, and where I am thinking of there are aquifers and lakes. You needn't worry about brine becoming a large part of your diet."

A ruffle of satisfaction went through the mutants. Obviously this was a large concern of theirs.

Erik's eyes drifted over them, and his narrating speech ended when he captured the gaze of the fiery Pyro. The younger mutant's own eyes, the complex dark orbs that they were, held many things; disgust, fear, worry but more importantly, pride. Pride, now that was easy to use. Proud people are so easy to bend, even though it sounds incredibly oxymoronic. And this boy would have to be twisted to be useful. His conscience that had been developed by Charles' careful cultivation would have to be severely pruned.

"So how will this work? When and how?"

"When? Soon. Almost immediately, in fact. I have been preparing this for quite some time."

_Surprise, fellow mutants._ They clearly weren't expecting such a sudden occurrence. Erik felt mildly satisfied by this. It would be disappointing if his followers could guess his every move.

"But..." the unusually intelligent mutant – by Brotherhood lackey standards, anyway – looked confused. He went by the name of Crow, and his 'gift' was, as the name suggests, given for his affinity with birds.

"Yes?"

"Why now? Why not wait until summer when there will be people on the beaches and in the seaside resorts?"

He received a look of unhidden disdain from the leader. "What?" Erik spat, "And give them no chance? We are not murderers, Mister Crow; we are merely trying to make things difficult. We are only trying to cause damage to which the mutants will be quick to adapt. Deaths will be in the name of the cause, but that is not an excuse for you to fulfill your sordid desires."

The company shrank away. This had made Erik irrationally angry, and when their leader was angry people had a habit of dying, despite all his noble words. He was a walking contradiction. Perhaps his 'meetings' with William Stryker in prison had done more damage than anyone had realized.

_Unhinged._ You could see the way the murmur traveled through the group. Everyone knew it, but no one was suicidal enough to mention it aloud. Fierce, intelligent and insane. That described Magneto to a tee.

"And as for how..." Erik this time kept his eyes purposefully away from Pyro's. That was Mystique's job this time round. "Well, fire melts ice, doesn't it?"

* * *

Magneto quickly dismissed the meeting, scheduling one for tomorrow at 0900 hours. All through this, he kept his eyes on all his underlings except for Pyro. This would help in the long run, sending the message that no one was willing to listen to the young man's complaints. The other mutants, even Crow, seemed only mildly impressed by the plan but eager for action.

If Pyro could be kept under thumb, all would go swimmingly.

When Erik left the cleverly made metal room, that was covered in the red metal that kept telepaths from snooping in, he caught the slightest glimpse of the youngster who was previously John Allerdyce in his peripheral vision. His face indicated he had been showing the same expression for a long time, one that showed how shell-shocked he truly was.

Despite his misgivings, Erik allowed himself a grim smile, and then ascended into the main warehouse. He had things to organize.

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Please review for us! Sketty next!


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